


Death Takes a Holiday

by Maverick



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve in Sleepy Hollow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Takes a Holiday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lamardeuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/gifts).



Frank unlocked his front door and ushered Crane inside. He figured he owed it to both Abbie and Jenny to make sure that Crane rang in the New Year without any supernatural shenanigans. Besides, it wasn’t like Frank had any plans for the evening.

“So let me get this straight, the Lieutenant and her sister are currently spending their hard earned currency for the privilege of soaking in a bath filled with mud?”

“Along with mani-pedis and seaweed wraps.”

Crane’s expression was one that clearly said ‘what is this foreign tongue in which you speak and should I procure armaments?’ And Christ, Frank didn’t need Crane’s unique cadence inside his head.

But he could sympathize. His younger self would have been just as boggled. Just one of the many benefits of being married to a strong, smart woman and having a beautiful and understanding daughter. He threw Crane a bone. “It would take way too long to explain but yes, that’s the gist of it. So basically the cave you woke up in was just an extended and somewhat more primitive version of modern day spa care. Who knows maybe that explains why you don’t look a day over 200.”

That at least got a smile out of Crane. “And do the women of this era do this often?”

Frank couldn’t help himself. “It’s not just women, buddy. Don’t underestimate the power of good pedicure. It can change your whole world view.”

“I believe I’ll have to take your word on that Captain. Anyway, thank you for the invitation this evening. Do you not wish to spend the New Year with your daughter?”

If wishes were horses… “Macey and her mother went to my in-laws. And while I’d love to ring in the New Year with her, I think I’d prefer a seaweed wrap to an evening with my wife’s parents. I’m not their favorite person at the moment.”

Crane looked uncomfortable. “I’m sorry to have brought up such a clearly painful subject.”

Frank shrugged. “Some couples are separated by temporary yet prolonged deaths and mystical realms. Others just can’t make it work no matter how much they love each other. It happens. And on that note, would you like a beer?”

Crane looked relieved. “Yes please.”

“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Frank popped the tops off the bottles of beer and handed one to Crane. He’d selected a pretty decent microbrew, but he wondered how the beer of today stacked up to that of Crane’s time. The expression on Crane’s face said it all.

“I think you must be mistaken, Captain. This is no way resembles beer.” Crane took another long pull. “This is by far the best brew that has ever passed my lips.”

Frank laughed and took a pull of his own beer before raising it in a toast. “Welcome to the 21st century. Glad we got something right.”

Crane drained the rest of the bottle and licked his lips. “Is all the beer of today this good?”

“No, some of it tastes like shit. But there are more varieties than you could imagine.”

A wry smile curled along Crane’s mouth. “I do not know Captain, I can imagine a lot.”

Frank laughed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a few others for you to try.”

“For that, I shall be eternally grateful. It astounds me how things with the same name can be so different today.”

Reaching behind him, Frank popped the top of another beer -- this time a stout -- and handed it to Crane. “Give me an example.”

A look of pure bliss washed over Crane’s face as he took his first taste of the new beer. “Billiards for example.”

“You mean pool?”

“I do believe that is what the Lieutenant called it. They were playing it at the recreation center we visited the other day and I was startled at the difference. There were no additional pieces on the table.”

“Beside the balls?”

Crane nodded. “Yes. When we played at Oxford, there were cushions in the corners, and a hoop known as an ‘arch’ would be placed on the table. And sometimes a ‘king”, which was a pin, would be set up beside the arch. Navigating those obstacles became an integral part of the game.”

Frank finished his first beer and grabbed another. He tried to visualize what Crane had explained. “So like tabletop croquet?”

“An apt comparison to be sure. Today’s game seems to require a vastly different set of skills.”

“Well, the next night that Death takes a holiday, the four of us will have to go out and play a few rounds. I have it on good authority that Lieutenant Mills and her sister are both quite the pool sharks.”

Crane arched an eyebrow.

“Shark, someone who is very good at a game but doesn’t want his or her opponents to know it.”

“Understood. And are you a shark as well?”

Frank smiled. “If I was, it wouldn’t be in my interest to tell you.”

“Touché. So what is on our agenda for tonight?”

“Mills said you played cribbage.”

“I do indeed. I understand that there are subtle changes to this game as well.”

Frank nodded and reached across to the end table to pull out a deck of cards and his old man’s cribbage board. “Yes, I looked it up. From what I read, it’s not all that different, six cards instead of 5. Still a crib of 4. We’ll do a few practice runs as it’s been a while since I’ve played as well.”

Crane narrowed his eyes. “I fear you might be a shark at this as well, Captain.”

Frank laughed while cutting and shuffling the cards. “Only time will tell, Crane.” Maybe tonight wouldn’t so bad after all. Cribbage wasn’t poker, but he could think of worse ways of spending New Years Eve. And hell, at least there was no seaweed involved.


End file.
